


Routine Makes The Man

by arkadianmouse



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 04:11:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arkadianmouse/pseuds/arkadianmouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Nick has been raised as a Grimm.<br/>He is still a cop, and Juliette is his lovely next door neighbor. Monroe is the friendly blutbad who acts as his informant as well as annoys him to no end.<br/>One day some strange blutbad claims Monroe’s territory as his own, and Monroe, injured, disappears completely. Cue Nick reacting violently and doing all he can to find the man he realizes he may actually be in love with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Routine Makes The Man

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been working on this the better part of two weeks. After having revised this three times (the most I’ve ever edited something), I can happily say I can finally be confident in this. I do apologize for the length, but it just felt wrong to cut it into chapters.

Nick woke up that morning and repeated the same routine he always chose to follow. He showered, shaved, and dressed. As he didn’t have to work today, jeans and a PPD half-marathon shirt would do. Then he grabbed a bagel from the fridge and poured himself some coffee. He sat at the rickety breakfast nook—really, this house was too big for him, it had a breakfast nook—and munched on the poppy seeds, staring out the window.

Juliette, his lovely veterinarian neighbor, was walking up her drive, bringing her trashcans in. She caught him looking and waved. Nick waved back, only feeling slightly awkward about the situation. After all, he would never act on whatever attraction he felt for her. Sure, she was nice, at least as far as he could tell from their short conversations, and very pretty, but Nick was just too busy for things like love—or even dating.

Besides, both of his jobs could get pretty dangerous at times, and he would never want to drag somebody into that.

Nick got up and stretched, his joints aching. He’d gotten a total of six hours of sleep last night; the new record for the week. Both sides of business had been slow last night, for which he was immensely thankful.

“Morning, Marie,” he said, pressing a finger against the thin glass of the picture frame, where his aunt smiled back at him. She had passed away not a year ago, leaving him to fulfill his Grimm duties alone. He had been raised in the ways of creatures and fighting them, but that didn’t mean he never found himself a little too deep into something, missing her wisdom and strength.

It was strange, but after all he’d seen her go through in life, she had died of something so human; so horrible, and yet so natural. She had not gone out bloody, and for that he was thankful, as he had been there at the end, to hear her whisper her last words.

He couldn’t blame her for leaving him alone out here. She deserved some peace for once.

\---

There was someone, though. Someone he didn’t have to worry about hurting because frankly, he just didn’t care.

A blutbad. A “reformed” one, but one that had killed in the past nonetheless. No matter how much he swore by a regimen of Pilates and pills, Nick couldn’t forget that he had been a ruthless monster no less than a decade ago.

Eddie Monroe was getting the mail when Nick pulled up to park behind the little yellow buggy. Some kids rode past on their bicycles—one in a red sweatshirt—and Nick had fun watching Monroe pull himself together at the sight of it. He had one hand resting on the holster at his waist the whole time, of course.

“And you are here for?” Monroe trailed off, finally catching sight of Nick and raising one eyebrow. Nick sensed no fear from the blutbad, the unfortunate result of maintaining a close relationship with a Grimm for the past year or so.

Not that there had been much fear in the beginning, if Nick was being honest. For some reason Monroe just wasn’t afraid of the Grimm, despite the stories he’d recounted from his childhood. It would appear that Nick’s much smaller frame didn’t seem like much of a threat to the lumberjack-like appearance Monroe had. Other creatures sure seemed like they couldn’t get away fast enough from Nick.

“I’ve heard rumors that there’s another blutbad in the area, and I need you to confirm it.”

Monroe sighed. “How about coming in for coffee before you start the interrogation? I have bagels.”

“I just ate, and you know how I feel about your coffee.” Nick repressed a shudder at Monroe’s expensive coffee taste. He lived just fine with what came from a box, thank you very much.

Monroe just rolled his eyes and held the door open for him. Nick stepped into the home.

Nick always felt strange whenever he was in Monroe’s cozy little home. It was almost as if he couldn’t help but feel safe, which was just too weird, as he was a Grimm and Monroe was a monster.

Despite being said monster, however, Monroe had remained a valuable—and loyal—asset over the past year or so. Nick had spent many late nights in his home after Marie’s death, when his own house felt too empty, just listening to the ticking of clocks and pouring over the books she had left him.

It appeared that his aunt, though she had always kept Nick immersed in Grimm mythology, had left out a few of the more unsavory creatures. These creatures were what Nick currently found himself studying, with the blutbad’s help. Even though Marie had been a Grimm, she was always Nick’s only family first, with a protective streak a mile wide.

“I haven’t heard anything about new blutbaden in the area,” Monroe said finally when they were seated around his kitchen table. Unlike Nick’s own useless breakfast nook, Monroe’s kitchen table was scattered with foreign coffee beans and wood shavings and little nicks in the wood from when Monroe worked on a clock in here.

Nick liked watching Monroe work. He could forget momentarily that this was a man—a creature—whose nature it was to destroy things, and simply watch him create.

Nick shook the cozy touchy-feely feelings away and focused on what Monroe had just said.

“Are you sure you’re not just lying to protect them?”

Monroe growled deeply, quickly, so softly that Nick was unsure for a moment whether he’d actually heard it. “This is my territory; believe me, I’ve had enough blutbaden in my life to last, well, a lifetime.”

Nick sighed. Monroe made a good point. In the recent months they’d had at least three incidents with blutbaden, including the kidnapping of a young girl which Nick had been all too ready to blame Monroe for. There was also Monroe’s old “pack” (though Monroe cringed at the word) who had rolled into the area a few months ago, only to start being killed, leaving Nick to piece together why.

If he was being truthful, it was hard sometimes not to see these creatures as humans. Their problems, after all, were the same ones that Nick dealt with as a cop. Sometimes his cop side even won out in certain cases.

He only hoped that Marie wasn’t disappointed in him, wherever she was now. Marie had been a legend among every type of creature.

Nick wanted to be the legend that she was, or at the very least carry on that legend.

“We’ll have to double-check the surrounding areas. You’d be able to sniff them out, right?”

“I can’t just go for a walk in the woods with you, Nick,” Monroe sighed deeply into his coffee. “I have to get a clock finished for a very rich client—alright, okay, a semi-rich client—would you stop looking at me like that?”

“Come on, Monroe,” Nick pouted. “Please?”

“You need to stop that. It’s disturbing. You’re a powerful hunter, you can’t go around pouting at monsters you’re supposed to kill.”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Puppy Dog Eyes.”

“I resent that,” Monroe said, setting down his coffee in the sink. “I’ll spare an hour.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“And a half?” Nick asked with a pout.

“Fine.”

Nick pumped his fist to convey success. Monroe looked down at him for a moment, and with one last eye roll, went to get his coat.

\---

The woods across from Monroe’s house were by no means large, but there were a number of other forests scattered around the city, and some of them were well out of Monroe’s territory reach. However, they were not out of Nick’s, and so if a blutbad were out there, Nick resolved to find it. He wouldn’t have any more incidents with those monsters.

A cold shudder wracked through him and he glanced over at Monroe. The man was sniffing softly into the wind, but his true face remained shielded by the human façade he usually wore.

Nick groaned. He had not just felt guilty thinking that Monroe was a monster. It was simply fact, after all.

“We should head west,” Monroe said suddenly.

“What?” Nick startled, “Why?”

“I don’t know.” Before Nick could say anything, he held up a hand. Nick snapped his mouth shut to listen, pushing back embarrassment that Monroe had so much control over him. “That’s where the greatest number of forests are. They’re large, too. If there is another blutbad, he or she would choose a lot of territory, especially if they already knew I was here. I’m…” Monroe paused. “I’m considered weak in the blutbad world. Wieder-blutbad are not thought of well in the community, as I’m sure you can guess.”

“So what are you saying? Whoever this is—”

“—If they’re even out there—”

“Will try to move in on your territory?”

Monroe’s cheeks were flushed, as though he were embarrassed. “Bingo. They’ll see me as easy prey, and either they’ll ignore me completely and move around my little patch of territory, or they’ll just kill me and take it for their own—which, sad to say, is much more likely.”

“And then they’ll have the whole city? Oh no, there is no way I’m letting that happen.”

“Thanks for the concern. I could probably hold my own against them; just because I’m considered weak doesn’t mean I am. I’ve ripped a guy’s arm off, once.”

He noticed Nick’s horrified look and shrugged. “I apologized. I sent him a fruit basket. But he kind of deserved it, for thinking he could mug some poor clockmaker.”

“Yeah, fruit baskets make everything better.”

Monroe sent him a look that showed he thought they actually did.

\---

“I give up,” Monroe said after a total of five hours searching. They had stopped for lunch at a sub shop and Monroe ate his grilled cheese sandwich mournfully, all the while eyeing Nick’s ham on rye enviously. Nick took a large bite and moaned, eyes rolling upward, even though he hated rye with a passion.

“You can’t,” he said, mouth still full. Monroe’s envious look turned to one of mild disgust. “I’m sure there’s something out there.”

“Oh really? And who is this mysterious source you keep mentioning?”

“I...” Nick actually didn’t have a source. But his Grimm instincts were going wild about something dangerous in the area, something that posed a direct threat to him or… someone close to him. And Nick wasn’t really sure why his instincts were focusing on that, as Aunt Marie was already dead.

“Oh great, you’re just flying by the seat of your pants, aren’t you?” At Nick’s untimely giggle (because Monroe always used old expressions like that) Monroe threw down the unfinished half of his sandwich and stood. “Alright then, have fun finding the invisible blutbad by yourself.”

“Monroe, wait—” Nick started, before realizing that he really didn’t need Monroe. And then he came to the further realization that maybe his instincts were just being dumb and there wasn’t anything to worry about.

Yes, that was probably it.

Thankfully, they had taken Nick’s car, and so all he had to do was get into it and drive home.

\---

That night, Nick’s dreams were full of blood and teeth and screams, and he woke up to a sore throat and realized that some of the screams had been his own.

The worst part was that he had dreamed about Monroe, not as the attacker, but the one being attacked. It was unsettling—it had been too real. The Grimm inside him was rolling around in his chest cavity, clenching painfully.

It needed to get out. Nick needed to get out. He needed to find Monroe.

No! That was a ridiculous idea. There was nothing wrong in his city; Nick would be able to sense it if something was happening.

Something is happening.

Monroe was fine. He was the Big Bad Wolf, after all—though he had said it himself, he wasn’t that big… and a reformed blutbad wasn’t bad at all…

Nick burrowed back under the covers. He was over thinking a silly nightmare. What Monroe had said that afternoon had just gone to his head. Everything was going to be alright. He’d go see Monroe tomorrow (you visit him too much, a treacherous voice said) and make sure that everything was alright.

Nick closed his eyes and saw red.

\---

Nick got up that morning and followed his routine just the same, if a little rushed. He forgot conditioner when he showered, he nicked himself shaving, and he spilled some coffee while trying to pour it with one hand, the other one occupied with a tissue to staunch the blood. When he waved to Juliette, he belatedly realized that he had forgotten to put on a shirt, and felt himself flush a little. She didn’t even seem to notice his state of undress, and went about her business as usual.

Nick felt a little down, understanding suddenly that maybe she simply wasn’t interested.

And for a fleeting moment, he thought that maybe he had never been seriously interested in her either.

Nonsense, he said. She was pretty and nice and a veterinarian. Who didn’t love a veterinarian?

But then again, she wasn’t tall or muscular or male—

“Ouch!” Nick shouted, sticking his scalded tongue out quickly. He shook his head and dumped the coffee into the sink. It had tasted horribly anyway.

“I should go over to Monroe’s,” Nick told himself out loud. “He has good—or rather, acceptable—coffee, and it’s always at the right temperature. Besides, I can tell him about that stupid nightmare last night—he’d get a kick out of that, a Grimm having a nightmare…”

Nick found himself already at the door, having pulled on a shirt from the dirty laundry and his heavy leather jacket that shielded him from the cold, his car keys in hand.

“Alright,” he decided. “I’ll go for coffee. It will bother Monroe, definitely, and that’s always fun.”

He stepped outside and almost ran for his car. He told himself it was because of the cold.

\---

Nick couldn’t really lie to himself this time—he was a little worried when he pulled up and didn’t see the yellow buggy.

Monroe always ate breakfast at his house, so that he could follow that up quickly with Pilates. It was his regimen, and he loved his regimen.

Of course, there was the small possibility that he had left for a clockmakers conference. He talked about those often. But surely he would have mentioned it yesterday?

Unless he was planning to mention it, but Nick had angered him before he could say anything.

Yes, Nick thought, that’s it. That would explain his eagerness to finish that clock yesterday as well.

So despite the instincts that roiled in his chest as he walked up the steps, Nick remained calm. There was always a reasonable explanation for anything Monroe did, and this would all work itself out shortly. There was probably a note and everything!

But Nick hadn’t even made it up the front steps, however, before a heavy weight crashed through the door and pushed him to the ground, crushing his chest and breathing down hot air into his face. Nick hadn’t even had time to reach for his gun.

“Grimm,” a deep voice said above him, and he found himself staring up at deep red eyes. Darker than Monroe’s, which always seemed to be a bright and cheery red. These eyes were the color of dried blood.

Nick coiled one arm back enough to send a punch right to underneath the creature’s jaw. It pulled back in surprise, enough for Nick to wiggle out slightly. One kick to the ribcage and he propelled himself out, scrambling to his feet quickly.

The thing was larger than Monroe, but could still pass as a human. The size of it—and now that he had a good look, Nick could see it was a blutbad—made him worry, though; where was Monroe? Had he really been able to take this thing on, and if he had, why had it been in his house? Monroe surely hadn’t been entertaining it, had he?

Nick glanced quickly at the doorway while fumbling for his gun, but no Monroe emerged with a sarcastic comment at hand. Just the broken door, with the broken glass window etching of the little wolf.

Anger surged through Nick, and the red of his nightmares came flooding back to him. There was no way that had happened; no way could he have let it happen. Monroe had to have gotten away.

“Where is he?” Nick asked, pointing the gun at the creature. Its human face had returned, an unshaven gruff man, who seemed to be dressed nicely, if not very similarly to how Monroe dressed. Then it hit Nick—he was wearing Monroe’s clothes. They pulled at his shoulders and gut, but it was Monroe’s clothes all the same, and Nick felt sick, because—where could Monroe be?

“You mean the wieder-blutbad? The abomination? I took care of him before you got here, so you’re a little late.” The large man—creature—chuckled darkly. “I never thought a Grimm would take interest in something as weak as that. I’m a much better challenge, even more so now that I’ve got all this land.”

The Grimm inside Nick howled, and his trigger finger itched, his mind racing with one thought: pull it pull it kill him. But there was something more important than killing this creature; he had to find out where Monroe was first.

“Where is Monroe?”

“Monroe? Was that his name?” The blutbad scoffed. “It was pathetic, really; you would have been disgusted. He ran before he could even accept defeat.”

Relief hit him, light and warm, but it was swiftly overshadowed by a deep seated anger. “Where did he go? And I do hope you realize that I am going to kill you once you answer this question. Just want to be fair and let you know what you’re getting into.”

“You’d kill me? But I haven’t even started hunting yet. What happens between blutbaden is of no concern to a Grimm—”

“Well that blutbad in particular is of concern to me.”

“That’s disgusting. You would keep a blutbad as a—a what? A pet? You just use him? Thank goodness he’s probably dead by now; he’s so much better off—”

Nick shouted and pulled the trigger, aiming for the creature’s leg. Its kneecap exploded in a shower of blood, and the howl it let out was atrocious. Nick prayed that he hadn’t woken any of the neighbors, but he hadn’t had any good luck so far this morning.

“Monroe is a friend,” Nick said, pausing in horror after he said it, but shaking it off quickly. He’d deal with those feelings later. “Now, which way did he go?”

The blutbad spit blood at him, but it landed not far from his own feet. Nick shook his head at how pathetic it all was. Things had looked dicey in the beginning, but now he realized that he probably didn’t even need to worry for Monroe.

But Monroe didn’t have a gun.

“He just took his car and left,” the blutbad said. “It could’ve been north. I didn’t look. I was just disgusted that he was running away.”

Nick barely managed to not pull the trigger, but instead he pulled out his phone and dialed Hank’s number. “There’s been a break-in,” he reported, relaying Monroe’s address. “I had to shoot the perp, but he is still alive and conscious. Bring an ambulance if you must.”

The blutbad scoffed from his place on the ground. “Leaving me alive? You must have a soft spot for blutbad in general, not just your bit—”

Nick stepped forward brought the gun crashing down on his skull.

“Scratch that,” he told Hank, even though the line had since gone dead. “Perp is no longer conscious.”

\---

Nick honestly had no idea what he was going, but he drove north anyway. Monroe had told him once (after quite a few beers and a long day of staring through a magnifying instrument) that the rest of his family was near the border, and Nick had a vague feeling he would head there if he were ever in trouble.

He had nowhere else to go, after all.

He should have come to me.

What would I have done?

That gave Nick pause as he drove out of city limits. If Monroe had shown up at his doorstep, in the middle of night, covered in blood—

Nick would have assumed the worst. That he’d killed someone. And he might have even drawn his gun, tried to get a few shots in…

But something inside Nick resounded with a heavy ‘no’ at that. The stupid cop part of him insisted that he would have checked Monroe for injuries first, led him inside, given him a hot beverage or something, and then marched over to his house to take care of everything.

Or was it the Grimm part that insisted this?

Nick honestly had no idea; the two had been meshed together since his first day of the academy—since before that, when he saw all the crime getting by the cops, crimes that humans were committing, so of course they didn’t fit into his Grimm duties.

Now that he’d worked his way up to detective, nothing had changed. He was still all too willing to believe any sob story that came his way.

Even, he admitted, if that story came from a creature. Not a dangerous one, of course, but Monroe… Monroe was not dangerous. They’d established that long ago, and regardless of how strong the blutbad was, Nick still felt… protective?

That couldn’t be right.

Nick pulled over at a gas station. What was he doing? He had already arrested one blutbad today, and now he wanted to bring another back into his city?

One that belongs there.

But Monroe was dangerous. He had killed people in the past; he never hid that from Nick, even if he had never shared details. What if his regimen failed one day? What if he started to kill again? What if… what if Nick had to kill him?

“Maybe its better he’s gone,” Nick said aloud to himself, swinging the car around the parking lot. “No more blutbaden. Now there’s a great notion.”

Nick ignored the empty feeling in his chest and started to make his way home.

\---

Nick was called to the station that night, to go over the case of Monroe’s break in, as well as a domestic dispute that really was not his area at all. But they were short a few men—one of the officers was having his wedding today; Nick had declined the invitation, thinking he’d be busy that day. Either with Grimm work or, if not, doing something with Monroe...

It was for the best, though. He needed something to take his mind off of everything that was going on.

“Okay, you usually at least crack a smile,” Wu said from his desk, next to Nick’s. “What is it? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

“What?” Nick jolted out of his stupor and felt a blush rise to his cheeks. “Are you mistaking me for you again?”

“Ha ha. No seriously, I’ve been telling the best jokes over here and I haven’t heard a single laugh from you over there. What’s up?”

“Nothing, really.”

“I don’t believe you.” Wu got up and hovered near Nick’s shoulder, reading over Monroe’s open file. Nick tried to shield it but knew it was hopeless; Wu was persistent, especially when it came to potential gossip.

“Oooh,” he said, after a long pause. “That explains it.”

“What?” Nick asked, wary and yet curious whether Wu saw something he hadn’t.

“That’s your friend, right? The one you’ve brought to the station a few times? What was it you call him? ‘Consultant’?”

“Informant.”

“Right, the watchmaker.”

“Clockmaker.”

“Whatever.” Wu read some more and then raised his eyebrows. “It says here they found blood at the crime scene. A lot of it. Do you think he’s okay?”

“Yes,” Nick said tightly. “He’s fine.”

“Where is he now? The hospital?”

Nick shook his head. He… actually hadn’t considered the hospital. “I don’t know. The perp said he got into his car and drove off; said he headed north.”

“Why? Wow, I would have thought you’d be half-way to the border looking for him now.”

“Why would I do that?” Nick sputtered.

“Because he’s your friend? And probably a bit more from the way you’re blushing.” Wu waggled his eyebrows and moved back to his own desk before Nick could hit him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we hate each other.”

“Did you get into a fight? Is that what this is about?”

“No!” Nick said, before remembering yesterday. “I mean, we might have had an argument yesterday…”

“About his crush on you?”

“Would you stop saying things like that? There is no way Monroe would like a… someone like me.” A Grimm.

“Yeah, mmhmm. That sure explains all those looks he gives you when he thinks no one is watching.”

“Don’t be delusional. I already told you, we hate each other.”

“I sure would hate you if I were him, but that doesn’t explain why he doesn’t.”

Nick’s mouth tasted sour, but was definitely curious now. “What do you mean?”

“Well, whenever you brought him down to the station you would lead him around like he was a dog. You never really let him talk to any of us.” Wu paused here. “I hate to say it, but it looked like the set up for a case just like the Jones’ here.”

Nick glanced down at the domestic violence case on his desk and shuddered. “I… that can’t be right.”

“I never got what you had against the guy, or why you seemed so jumpy around him. Maybe I had it the other way around. Were you afraid of him?”

“Of course not! I… I am not a case, Wu. Stop talking.”

“There’s a chance that maybe he doesn’t want to be found by you. If that’s the case, then if you want to find him, you’re going to have to go over why.”

Maybe he doesn’t want to come back at all. But Nick already knew this was a possibility, it was why he left his search yesterday.

He still felt no less empty.

Mrs. Jones’ was glaring up at him with bruised eyes, her statement of falling down the stairs mocking him. Nick shuddered. There was no way that his and Monroe’s relationship had been like this. He had seen broken couples at the station before—the husband so commanding, the wife so submissive. Occasionally the other way around.

But Monroe… he had had no control over Monroe. But he hadn’t been afraid of him, either. They saw each other for the powerful creatures they were; the only ones in this city who truly knew everything about each other, whether they had wanted to or not.

There had been so many late nights, where they had started out talking about a case, but had ended up talking about their jobs, their childhood, their likes and dislikes. Over the past few weeks, Nick had found himself growing even more comfortable, enough to start asking Monroe what it was like to be a blutbad, to be a part of a world that was so similar and yet so different from Nick’s.

Maybe, sometimes, down at the station, Nick had been wary of letting a blutbad talk to his friends. And maybe when they got down to the case files, and Nick glanced at the file cabinet full of cold cases, he wondered if Monroe was behind any of those.

In its purest form, their relationship was full of as many ups as it was downs. While they disagreed often, they never fought physically at least, except when a remark or comment pushed one to lash out against the other, to shove him against the nearest wall and get up in his face—

Nick flushed. That sounded wrong, even in his own head. It was just that they were both hot-blooded creatures, and beneath it all, the Grimm always sensed that caged wolf, respectful and yet so dangerous, and sometimes one man would back down to the other’s power, and then the cards would switch the next second.

Throughout it all, though, Nick knew that there was some part of Monroe that he couldn’t help but to trust.

The human part, Nick supposed.

Nick shook himself from his thoughts and closed both case files. He had to get back to work—how could he be such an idiot not to check the hospital?

Mentally crossing his fingers, Nick waved goodbye to Wu, then headed out to the parking lot to get his car.

\---

“I’m sorry, there’s no one here by that name.”

“Well then can I check your list of patients admitted last night? He would have driven himself here,  
there would have been a lot of blood—” his brain stuttered over that—“let’s see, he has brown hair, a scraggly beard…”

“Really sir, there’s no one here by that description. There was a car accident involving a female passenger, and a young boy with kidney stones. That’s everyone who came in last night, besides a few emergency room patients with bumps and bruises.”

“I…” Nick sighed. “Alright. Can I see a patient list anyway?”

“Can I see your badge again?”

Nick flipped open his badge to the middle-aged woman manning the reception desk once more and barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes.

“Here you are,” she said finally, after rummaging around. Nick took it and scoured it for a few minutes, before reaching the bottom of the list.

“It says here you have a John Doe.”

“Oh yes, he had a few broken ribs and a broken arm. But he called an ambulance. Apparently he fell out a window or something.”

“May I see him?”

“He doesn’t fit your description.”

“May I see him?” Nick repeated, more forcefully. The woman sighed and pointed down the hall. “Room 308. But it’s not your guy.”

“I’ll decide that, thank you.”

He came back a moment later, avoiding her eyes. “Thank you for the help, miss.”

She waved politely back, all the while shaking her head. “No one ever listens to me,” she said.

\---

Nick drove around the city for a good while, eyes scanning the area for any sign of the tell-tale yellow buggy. He found nothing.

He got home late that night, and collapsed into bed, foregoing dinner altogether.

He dreamed of the pale yellow, slightly rusted car, speeding down black pavement, surrounded by green trees on all sides. He was standing by the side of the road, watching it pass him over and over again, and every time it passed he thought about stepping in front, stopping it, to see if Monroe was the one driving.

And then he thought “why not?” and took a few steps into the road, watching the car hurtle towards him at an inhuman speed, a yellow blur.

Something hit him from the side, and he looked up and found himself staring into Monroe’s bright red eyes.

“Idiot,” the blutbad said, heaving himself off of Nick. He turned to go.

“Wait!” Nick said, holding out an arm. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the forest, duh,” Monroe said, pointing to the green all around him.

“Then… where am I?”

“You’re asleep in your bed.”

Nick woke up slowly, to the yellow rays of morning. He groaned, feeling as though he’d only gotten about twenty minutes of sleep.

He rolled over to check the clock but instead found his cell phone buzzing quietly on the night stand. He reached over and picked it up.

It was a text from Monroe. Nick shot up in bed, blinking sleep from his eyes. He flipped open the phone.

Need help, it read, Near house. Find me.

“‘Near house?’ Damn you!” Nick nearly threw the phone across the room. “You’ve been here the whole time?”

He got up, thankful that he hadn’t changed out of yesterday’s clothes, and leapt down the stairs two at a time, nearly missing the last step. He grabbed his keys and sped out the door.

Near house, near house… Near whose house?

Nick tore open the driver’s side door with a shout. Stupid blutbad. Leaving weird messages on his phone. How long had it been there?

Need help, need help. God, it had been two days now. Had he been bleeding out in the woods for that long?

The woods. Nick remembered his dream—weird dream, what was he on last night?—and smacked the steering wheel with a hand.

We should head west. If the other blutbad had started out west, and then moved into Monroe’s territory—what better place to hide then in plain sight? There were many ways to hide a car in the woods, Nick knew that much, and with the perp in custody that at least meant Monroe was safe.

Or he would be safe, once Nick reached him.

Nick made it to Monroe’s house in record time, wincing at the crime scene tape that still covered the broken door. He got out of the car and headed straight for the woods, veering west. He would retrace their footsteps from that day—they hadn’t covered too much ground—and hopefully, hopefully, he’d find Monroe.

The swelling in his chest felt too much like hope, too much like something else. He ignored it and pushed on.

\---

When he came across the yellow buggy not ten minutes later, he nearly crashed to his knees in relief. But another emotion flushed through his system when he realized that the driver’s door was caked with blood.

At least there was a trail for him to follow now. The woods were a blutbad’s home, and so Monroe would know how to hide himself, but hopefully he’d left traces for Nick to follow.

Hopefully he’d want to be found.

Hopefully he’d be okay.

Nick didn’t really know the damage one blutbad could do to another. He’d seen what blutbaden did to humans, though, and it wasn’t pretty.

It was the reason he kept such distance from Monroe, after all. The man had killed in the past—and didn’t anymore—but damn it all if that still didn’t make Nick nervous. Because if Monroe ever did kill again, then Nick would have to kill him, and that was something he just did not want to have to do. It would hurt him, even if he didn’t really want to say why.

As he started to remember the path they had taken not three days ago, the trees seemed to bend around him, highlighting the path to take. He still wasn’t sure exactly where he was going, but something, some kind of instinct, was leading him down this way.

He could only hope it was leading him straight to Monroe.

\---

When he came across what appeared to be a medium-sized clearing in a larger spot of woods probably three miles from the spot Monroe’s car was stashed, he stumbled into it quickly, praying that he would get some kind of cell service.

It turns out he didn’t, but he had forgotten about the heavy-duty walkie-talkies the department used for exactly this type of situation, and he fished it out of the backpack he was thankful he’d remembered to bring from his car. As that was the car he used for his detective work, the backpack was always in the trunk, but he’d never imagined he’d have to use it in an emergency situation.

He was just scanning for Hank’s line when he caught sight of something lying not far from him—a body, clothed in jeans and a large plaid shirt.

His heart froze, his breathing stopped completely.

It can’t be.

He neared it slowly, carefully, edging towards it, violent tremors wracking the hand that held the walkie-talkie. His breath hitched, his heart restarted, when the body moaned and rolled over, its face turned to him.

It was Monroe.

\---

He was hardly recognizable. Monroe’s face was deathly white, except for one side, which was caked with dried blood. When Nick got closer, he could see a shallow scab just beneath the hairline on his left temple.

Nick knelt down and scanned the rest of the body for injuries. Monroe’s chest heaved shallowly, and as Nick watched him take in stuttering breaths, he finally registered the tattered undershirt which had probably been white before blood had soaked it completely. Nick cursed loudly and immediately pressed his hands to the deep claw marks, as though he could somehow heal it that way.

He was by no means a doctor, but the second he pushed around the tears to get a better look at the wounds, he knew they were infected.

Monroe’s eyes fluttered open suddenly and he inhaled sharply.

“Oh great,” he said weakly. “Now I’m hallucinating.”

Nick laughed, but it caught in his throat. “I don’t think so.”

“You sure?”

Nick brushed back some of Monroe’s hair to get a better look at the wound, ignoring how loud his heartbeat was. “I’m really here for you, Monroe. You don’t need to worry anymore.”

“I wasn’t worried. I knew you’d find me.”

Nick’s heart leapt to his throat, and he opened his mouth to say something, when Hank’s voice suddenly broke through the walkie-talkie. “Nick?” He said.

Nick reached down to his belt and pressed the button hurriedly.

“Hank,” he said. “Can you find my coordinates?”

“I’ll get the tech team on it. What do you need?”

“A medical helicopter, as soon as you can get one here. I’m with… I’m with Monroe. He’s hurt.”

“Monroe?” Hank sounded confused. “Oh,” he said a second later, remembering something—either who Monroe was or that there had been a break-in at his house recently or something that made him understand.

“I’ll be waiting,” Nick said, before the line went dead. He fell back from his crouching position to sit on the ground, ignoring the dampness. “How are you doing?” He directed to Monroe, doing his best to avoid looking at his face and the grimace of pain it held.

“I’m surviving,” the blutbad answered finally, evening out his breathing. Nick wasn’t sure whether this was a good thing or not. “Found B-Burdock root. Not painful.”

“But it looks so painful. I can’t—” Monroe gave him a look akin to pity, and Nick started. Had he just said that out loud?

What had he meant to say anyway? That he couldn’t stay there? That it was too hard to see this man that he had come to care for in so much pain?

But he had to; he had to make sure Monroe got to safety. He had to make sure Monroe lived to know what Nick had come to feel for him.

Monroe seemed to sense Nick’s apprehension, or something, and he tried to move his hand to rest on Nick’s own. He only made it halfway. Nick didn’t hesitate to close the distance with his own hand.

“Nick—you don’t need to stay—” Monroe’s eyes spoke volumes. I’m in pain. I’m dangerous.

Nick made a disbelieving noise. “That’s not what this is about. I get it now,” Nick laughed, maybe a little hysterical, but damn it all if those cuts weren’t still oozing blood, and how was this man not dead. “I get it, you’re reformed. I trust you. Please, can you trust me?” Trust me to take care of you.

Monroe tightened his grip as their eyes locked in place. “I already do. I already have. For a while.”

“Wu says you have a crush on me.” Nick had meant it as a joke, but it came out too serious. Too shaky.

“I do.”

Nick expected to blush but his cheeks remained cold. He took a deep breath as Monroe’s eyes darkened.

“Why?”

“I have no idea.” Monroe took a shaky breath and Nick leaned closer.

“I… I like you too. I have for a while. I just… never realized.”

Monroe chuckled, deep and throaty, and Nick shuddered.

In the distance, the sound of helicopter blades broke the moment, and they tore their eyes from each other to look at the sky. The medical helicopter was descending into the clearing, and Nick suddenly realized that Monroe really had chosen the perfect spot to wait.

Two men hopped out of the helicopter with a gurney and raced towards them. Nick slipped his hand from Monroe’s and rose to meet them, ignoring Monroe’s disapproving noise. Nick looked back down at him with a smile, and it felt like he hadn’t smiled in days. Nick realized suddenly that probably was the truth.

“You can ride with us,” one of them said. Nick almost took a step towards them, but shook his head.

“My car, its back there.” At Monroe’s house, safe and sound. “I need to get back to it. Take care of a few things.” He looked down at Monroe, who looked as though he was quickly slipping into unconsciousness. “I’ll see you later. I will!” He said at Monroe’s disbelieving look – or maybe it was just pained.

“Alright then,” the other replied, already working to load Monroe into the helicopter. “It’s lucky you were out here looking for him. He looks like he didn’t have much time left.”

Nick shuddered at the thought and turned to leave the clearing, the wind from the propellers beating at his back.

\---

It was a long trek back to his car, and when he finally made it there the sun was beginning to set. He got in and sat for a while, listening to traffic updates on the radio, staring at the still-broken door to Monroe’s house, the crime-tape covered plastic tarp that was supposed to keep out the worst of the weather.

Nick was debating his next move when someone rapped at his window. He startled violently and looked over to see an elderly woman with curlers glaring at him.

He rolled down the window quickly. “Yes, ma’am? What can I help you with?”

“What are you doing, punk?” she screeched. “Why have you been parked here all day? Looking for your partner? Or maybe scoping out the rest of our houses to rob?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Nick fumbled for his badge. “I’m actually the detective who took over the case. I’m sure you’ll be glad to know that we caught the guy responsible, as well as found M-Mr. Monroe.”

She peered over her cats-eye glasses at the badge. “I see,” her screechy voice lowered. “Well then, carry on, officer.”

She waved her hand in a dismissive motion and shuffled back up the driveway of the house to Monroe’s right. Nick watched her go as he started up the engine.

He’d made up his mind.

He had to go visit Monroe.

\---

“Oh, it’s you again,” the woman at the reception desk said. Nick hadn’t expected to see her again, honestly, and was surprised she recognized him.

“Hello,” he said nervously. “I’m looking for…”

“Let me guess, your six-foot bleeding lumberjack?”

“I…” Nick wasn’t sure if she was making a joke or not. “Yes?”

“He’s recovering from the surgery right now. Whatever animal attacked him certainly did a number on him. I’ll let the doctor know you’re here.”

“Is it… I thought visiting hours were over?”

“Are you here as a police officer or as a friend?”

Nick understood immediately. “Of course. I have a few questions to ask him about his disappearance.”

“Then I’ll let the doctor know you’re here.”

Nick smiled at her but she kept her stony expression in place. Nick wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw her eyes lighten at least a little.

“Detective Burckhardt?”

Nick turned to the voice and saw the doctor rounding the corner, carrying a clipboard. He held out his hand and they shook.

“My name is Doctor McNabb. I have a report here that needs some filling in, and I suspect that you’re the one with answers?”

Nick nodded. “I’ll certainly do my best, but I do have questions for you as well.”

“Of course. Please, my office is right this way.”

Doctor McNabb ushered him into a small office with windows encompassing two of the walls. Nurses with patients in wheelchairs and other doctors hustled by. Nick sank down into one of the two chairs facing the desk, while Doctor McNabb sat down across from him.

“Now, the emergency response team that picked Mr. Monroe up said that you were the one who found him and called in the helicopter. I suspect that you’re the one who was going over his case?”

“Yes. I was the first one at the break-in scene—or, you see, Monroe’s house was broken into a few days ago—”

“I did know that, yes. And the perpetrator was caught?”

“He was still at the crime scene. I took him into custody but Monroe was nowhere to be found.”

“He had fled into the woods? You didn’t check there first?”

“Well, his car was missing, and we had information that he was seen heading north.”

Doctor McNabb waved a hand. “It’s fine; I don’t need all the details. The gist is that Mr. Monroe was in the woods by himself for no less than two days, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

The doctor let out a low whistle. “His survival is truly a miracle, then.”

Nick definitely hadn’t wanted to hear that. “Well, you see, he has survival training—”

“No doubt. It would appear that he treated himself with medicinal herbs, though what exactly I’m unsure of. Still, it delayed the infection, although another hour or so and there would have been nothing more Mr. Monroe could do. It’s good that you found him when you did.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“What I’m most curious about, though, is how exactly Mr. Monroe got his injuries. The head wound could have obviously been sustained in a struggle with the robber, but the marks on his torso…”

“Knife wounds,” Nick said automatically. He’d planned this out on the ride here. The claw marks, while they definitely looked like they had been made by an animal, were few and far between. A knife could have caused it, if the victim had stood very still while someone slashed at their chest. “We believe that Mr. Monroe was knocked unconscious and then cut, more likely to send a message than to inflict any sustaining damage. He most likely woke up then and ran out.”

Doctor McNabb stared at him for a long while. “It’s as good a story as any other I’ve heard from the police, Grimm,” he said finally.

Nick had to admit he was surprised. But then he caught the flicker—McNabb’s face blurring with something animalistic—no, something avian, a large beak protruding where his nose used to be and two beady eyes staring out at him. The next second it was back to his sculpted human face.

“My family and I have been watching you closely these last few years,” Doctor McNabb said. “The blutbad is good for you. He makes you less Grimm, and more human. Your aunt was… she was a true Grimm. But that is not always a good thing.”

Nick felt his hand drifting down to the gun at his belt. “You don’t… are you one of the good… creatures?”

“See? A true Grimm wouldn’t even have asked that question.” McNabb smiled. “The answer is yes. I work in a hospital, Detective. I like to help people, to take care of them. And if you let me out of this office alive, then I’ll take good care of your blutbad. I’ll even release that the wounds on his chest were inflicted by a knife, since you insist on using that as your excuse.”

“I wasn’t going to kill you,” Nick said as the doctor rose. McNabb nodded.

“That’s what I like about you, Nick. And I bet that’s what he likes about you, too.”

Doctor McNabb strode to the door with his clipboard, looking over his shoulder quickly. “He’s in Room 209, if you want to see him.”

Nick was on his feet the next second.

\---  
Nick found the room easily. He hated to say it, but he’d been to the hospital a lot, whether it was for something that had happened to him or to interview a victim to get some leads.

When he entered the room, he felt as though he’d stepped into some sort of different reality. Stuff like this wasn’t supposed to happen—Monroe didn’t belong here, and Nick didn’t belong here watching him.

Nick approached the bed carefully, sinking slowly into the chair set up next to it. He was afraid to even breathe—Monroe looked too fragile, too human.

Nick surveyed Monroe’s body, taking in the bandages and tubes full of fluids and the wires monitoring his heart. He lost track of how long he sat there, but when his eyes drifted back up to Monroe’s face, he found the blutbad staring right back at him.

“Hello,” Nick said nervously. Monroe smiled.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” he said, his voice scratchy. At least he didn’t look like he was in too much pain any more.

Nick wanted to reach over and take his hand again, look into his eyes, and go back to that moment they had had in the woods. “What can I say? I can’t stay away.”

Monroe didn’t laugh, but his eyes conveyed enough amusement that it didn’t matter.

They sat like that for a while, the silence a heavy presence but not stifling, and before Nick knew it he felt his eyes slip shut. The last thing he felt before surrendering to sleep was the phantom squeeze of one hand pressing against his.

\---

It was still dark outside when he finally opened his eyes, so it couldn’t have been more than a few hours that he slept. Nick glanced to the door and found it closed, the lights turned off, but the light from the hallway slipped in between the curtains of the windows and underneath the door, casting yellow beams on random areas of the wall.

Nick turned back to the bed and caught Monroe staring at him for the second time, glowing eerily in the pitch of the room. He felt his heartbeat stutter.

“What are you still doing awake?”

“I was waiting for you to wake up. You fell asleep in the middle of our conversation, it was very rude,” at least Monroe sounded better.

“I didn’t realize we were still talking. You should have woken me.” Nick inched closer. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better. Don’t worry, blutbaden heal fast.”

“That’s good.” It was. “W-What had we been talking about?”

“I was about to mention what you said in the woods. We need to come to some sort of arrangement about that.”

“Oh, we do?” Nick smiled; he felt much more relaxed than he should be right now.

“I think we’ve got it backwards, Nick. We’re supposed to date, and then confess, and then be all married and domestic.”

“Are you saying we’ve been married this past year without either of us realizing it?”

“Are you saying we haven’t?”

Nick thought about that. A week ago, if someone accused him of being secretly in love with Monroe, as Wu had earlier, Nick probably wouldn’t have even graced that person with a response.

Nick had always accepted that he hated Monroe, because it was what Grimms did. He never wanted to disappoint Aunt Marie by calling a blutbad “friend”, and so he never thought of their relationship as anything but beneficial for cases and cases alone.

He thought he hated Monroe because he was a monster. Now, he realized he had just been transferring his feelings about the real monsters to Monroe, simply because he had a dark past. He had completely ignored everything Monroe said about being reformed, because to accept that meant that he’d have to accept that he couldn’t hate Monroe, and if he couldn’t hate Monroe, then there was only one emotion left to describe the way he felt about Monroe—admiration, trust, love. Nick had just never been willing to go there.

Deep down, Nick had always known that someday he would be able to accept Monroe, to face the way he felt—to not be a coward. Now he was ashamed that it had taken something like this to make him be strong enough. It had taken something like this to throw him out of this routine that he and Monroe had trapped themselves in.

Nick was glad that the room was dark, because he didn’t even want to know what his face looked like right now.

“Are you saying we need to start dating?” He asked, wondering just what it was Monroe wanted from him.

Monroe’s hand snaked out from under the covers and grabbed hold of Nick’s. “I don’t think we need to. I think we just need to be ourselves. Don’t you?”

“I—” Nick took a deep breath. “I may have just realized that I’ve loved you for a really long time. Please don’t hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Nick. Believe me, I’ve tried.” Monroe shook his head. “You are an idiot, though, which is why I’ll never understand why it had to be you.”

Nick’s chest felt lighter suddenly. He chuckled. “I know why.”

Nick could see Monroe’s disbelieving look even in the dark. “Why’s that?”

Nick grinned. “Because I’m the best. Who wouldn’t fall in love with me?”

Monroe’s laughter made Nick start to laugh as well, until they got so loud that a nurse came in and glared at them, flipping on the lights. She frowned at Nick and told him he’d have to leave if he insisted on disrupting the patients, and Nick agreed that he needed to go home to shower and change anyway.

Before he left, however, he looked back at Monroe, face now restored to a normal, healthy tan, with his stubble and thick eyebrows, and big brown eyes, and felt his heart swell.

Finally, he knew he was right where he needed to be in his life.

 

Epilogue

“Be careful carrying that paint!” Monroe shouted at him. “Don’t you dare spill anything on my hardwood floors!”

“Yes, dearest,” Nick grumbled, lifting the paint can with one hand and bringing it down to the basement. He was smiling the whole time, though.

His and Monroe’s relationship had certainly changed, and yet some things remained the same. They both had their routines, little idiosyncrasies that they couldn’t change about themselves. Nick only bought a certain type of bagel. Monroe only drank his fancy expensive coffee. Monroe had to do his Pilates every morning; Nick preferred his afternoon run. They spent a lot of time apart during the week; Nick was kept busy at the station, Monroe went to client’s homes for pick-ups and deliveries and spent the rest of the time cooped up at his desk.

And yet they spent more time together than Nick could have hoped for. Monroe helped him with Grimm cases, and even tagged along most of the time, because he was overly-protective of Nick and couldn’t seem to trust him to take care of himself. And Nick still hadn’t forgiven himself for not finding Monroe immediately, and so he didn’t mind at all when his instincts started to warn him of something and all he had to do was look over to see Monroe looking back at him, head cocked to one side, eyes deep and brown with red speckling them to show that he sensed the danger too, and he’d take care of everything.

They also spent their nights together. But Nick still couldn’t think about that without feeling his face go hot and red, and his neck start to itch. That was the new side to their relationship that Nick was probably the most excited about.

Their routines, while separate in most ways, intertwined more than they both could have imagined. They were both happier than they’d been in a while, and if that meant that Nick had to put his house up for sale to move into Monroe’s cozy cottage near the woods, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Even if it did mean he’d have to say goodbye to Juliette, who had played a larger part in them getting together than she’d ever know.

“Are you coming back or what?” Monroe shouted from the top of the stairs, and Nick grinned.

“Hold your horses, old man,” Nick shouted back, and he could hear Monroe sputter and stomp back to the front of the house from down here. He shook his head and ascended the rickety wooden stairs.

Monroe had his back to him, staring at the front door. They had been able to get a replacement fairly quickly, but until yesterday it had been unpainted. That had been their project for the day, and the reason both of them were wearing grungy clothes with random paint spatters everywhere.

The door was still missing the stained glass window with the wolf, and Nick was surprised to find that he missed it. He had knocked on that door countless times, waited on the doorstep for Monroe to break away from whatever he was doing and answer, just staring up at the wolf. Wondering what the story behind it was.

Nick stepped behind Monroe and slipped his arms around him, leaning up to rest his chin on Monroe’s shoulder. He sighed, happy, and felt Monroe smile.

“Getting used to domestic bliss already, Nick?” Monroe teased. Nick snorted loudly in his ear.

“You’re one to talk; at least I don’t wear an apron when I make dinner.”

“Aprons are very practical; I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

“Fine,” Nick surrendered, because if he pushed to deep then there was a chance he’d have to sleep on the couch tonight. Whenever they fought he was the one who had to suffer for it—until halfway through the night when Monroe slunk downstairs and curled up in the chair next to the couch, and they watched infomercials until Monroe dragged him back upstairs.

It was yet another routine they had quickly fallen into.

And like the rest of them, Nick didn’t mind it.

“The door looks good,” he said finally.

“It’s missing something. Not just the window, either, which I ordered yesterday, by the way.”

“I think its fine the way it is,” Nick said, tightening his grasp around Monroe’s waist and pulling him back to the stairs. “We did a good job.”

“Yeah,” Monroe turns to look at him, and there was no other way to describe it—a wolfish grin on his face. “We make a good team.”

We certainly do, Nick thought, drawing him in for a kiss.


End file.
